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My fiancé, Eric Fletcher, wanted to have a child for his best female friend.

That woman named Laurie Stephens believed in staying single, yet she wanted a descendant to carry on her genes.

Eric chose to help her by putting our engagement on hold to honor his friendship.

He tossed a "Sperm Donation and Joint Custody Agreement" in front of me, his tone cold and weary. "It's just about your insecurity, right? I added your name. All the property goes to you. Satisfied now? Sign it quick! Laurie's body couldn't wait for the optimal fertility window."

I signed my name on the agreement calmly, then packed my sketchbooks without a word.

Eric Fletcher finally let out a sigh of relief, his face showing pure ease.

He stepped closer to hug me, but I dodged away. "Once the child arrives and gets on the birth certificate, we will marry right away. If you want, we can raise him together later. I will tell him you are a mom too."

I tucked away that thin agreement and watched him indifferently as he started planning the nursery with excitement.

He had no idea I had already arranged with his good buddy to get our marriage license next week.

...

I prepared Eric's bedtime herbal soak, and he came home.

From the entryway came the sound of him yanking at his tie, laced with impatience. "Maeve, come sign this."

On the living room coffee table sat a document titled "Sperm Donation and Joint Custody Agreement."

Before I could process the absurdity those words brought, Eric spoke up on his own, his tone matter-of-fact. "Laurie believes in staying single, but she wants a child. You know that. She doesn't trust anyone else. After thinking it over, I am the best fit."

He looked at me, his eyes free of any guilt, instead carrying a self-righteous sense of duty. "This is just biological help. I only provide the body. No emotions involved. We are best friends. I can't ignore her. Our wedding will pause for now. Once it ends..."

My blood turned cold bit by bit. I looked at this man I had loved for five years and felt like the biggest joke.

When he proposed, he swore that both his body and mind belonged to me.

I gave up my dream of opening my own studio for him. I became the "stable" in-home therapist he praised, organizing his life neatly, only to get our wedding paused for his homie?

When I stayed silent too long, Eric lost his patience, his brows knitting tight.

In the past, when I went quiet, he knew I had something on my mind. He would come close, hold me, and soothe me patiently.

Now he rushed to help someone else have a child and grew impatient instead. "You are just insecure, aren't you?"

He jabbed irritably at a page in the agreement. "All my premarital assets will transfer to your name after marriage. Maeve, happy now?"

Those words acted like a knife, stabbing straight into the softest spot in my heart, then twisting hard.